Wonderful
by nonotthatone
Summary: Clex, holiday fic. A Smallville re-envisioning of It's A Wonderful Life. A little bit of every genre, honestly; AU/AT/Futurefic, Drama, Angst, Friendship/Romance.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Warnings: dark themes, massive canon violations; character death (sort of)

A/N: Merry Christmas to all … and remember, whenever you review, a fic writer gets her wings!

Follow me on livejournal – nonotthatone dot livejournal dot com.

* * *

Wonderful

Lex wondered bleakly why winter evenings are always portrayed so romantically. There was nothing tender about the wind; it knifed through his fine clothes without compunction. That would teach him to go out without a coat.

However, on some level it seemed silly to put on a coat when where you're going is to commit suicide.

The night was damp, too, though Lex supposed that might just come from being so close to the river. He stood on Loeb Bridge, looking out over the black waters from which Clark had once pulled him. Gloveless, his hands were nearly frozen to the cold steel of the guardrail. The searing discomfort injected a necessary realism into the scene; otherwise Lex might have been able to be persuaded that he was dreaming.

It had all fallen apart, come spectacularly to pieces all around him. He'd wanted so badly to help the Smallville plant employees, to give them back what had been so cruelly and capriciously taken; he'd wanted to show them he wasn't like his father at all. And he'd wanted to break with Lionel as clearly and publicly as possible. He'd wanted to leave no room for doubt that his subservience was over.

Instead, he'd been outplayed. Again. And this time the chips he'd gambled with weren't even all his; his loss had made victims of hundreds of innocent people.

He'd convinced the workers to back him in an employee takeover; he'd given such a rousing speech, spoken with fervor from a place inside himself he'd never even knew existed. And when he'd finished he'd felt something washing over him, a sentiment he'd never experienced before in all his time in Smallville: trust. They believed in him. They cheered and called his name; and they took their trust to the bank, to turn it into cash to place into his hands.

When they'd begun arriving at the Smallville Savings & Loan the next morning, Lionel had already bought it out. He stood in the lobby, serene in the face of the furious crowd, and refused to grant any new mortgages. "Poor economy, you know," he'd smiled. "I can't sanction that sort of risky lending."

Lex had fielded the first calls to his cell phone with disbelief, but after the first half-dozen he'd started getting angry. It took him all day to pin down his father's actual whereabouts, but when he'd found him at last - playing squash at the mansion, of all presumptuous things - he'd gone straight there to confront him.

"Now, Lex," Lionel said with that trademark affected geniality. "I wish you wouldn't take this so personally. It doesn't have to drive a wedge between us; I'm perfectly willing to overlook the way you tried to hamstring me. Come now, bygones."

"You did this on purpose," Lex spat in return, ignoring the hand he extended. "This has nothing to do with business; you did this to prove a point. You did this because of me."

"No." All pretense was suddenly gone, leaving behind the Lionel Lex knew best. "I did it because I could. You never did learn to lose gracefully, son; and you'd better, if your work is always going to be this sloppy. An employee buyout? Of all the stupid ideas."

"It would have worked," Lex insisted furiously.

"It would not. You think I would actually fail to plan for such an obvious possibility? You're too easy to read, Lex. It will ruin you."

"I'll ruin you," he seethed. "You wait and see."

He turned to leave, but Lionel hit him in the back with one last jab. "You'd better have offered to buy it out yourself; ah, but I'd forgotten, all your cash is tied up in that Cadmus debacle, isn't it?"

Lex glared over his shoulder. "You've made your point, Father; I'm a stupid boy and I'll never get over on you. You needn't have made it on the back of the workers, though. You just crippled this entire town to satisfy your own hubris. I hope you're satisfied."

"We could," Lionel remarked casually, "still reach some kind of deal, if you'd stop slinging insults long enough to ask."

"At least leave me some small pleasure." Lex folded his arms. "I'm listening."

"Perhaps ..." Lionel sucked his teeth. "... if your LuthorCorp shares were on the table ..."

Lex flew back across the room and got within an inch of his father's face. "Over my dead body," he snarled.

Lionel just smiled again, that foul-smelling smile of his that left you feeling like you needed a shower. "Well, considering I am your next of kin ... I suppose that means you're worth more to me dead than alive."

Lex had stumbled blindly out of his own home. He'd revved the Porsche's engine and driven aimlessly around the county, making phone call after phone call from behind the wheel; he'd tried every favor he was owed, every enemy he knew his father to possess. No one would help him. And over and over Lionel's cruel words echoed, until a moment of despair and clarity revealed to Lex a new plan.

His father was right.

But he could work with that.

He made one last call and then switched off his phone. A short while later he arrived at his attorney's office and marched inside with clear purpose.

"Mr. Luthor," the older man greeted him nervously. "I know it's been a difficult day for you, but in corporate matters I really ..."

"I've had enough corporate matters for today," Lex interrupted, showing himself in. "I need to change my will."

Clark was the obvious choice, but he was only sixteen; Lex couldn't place such a burden on his shoulders. He tried to keep his affairs well-ordered, but he knew his executor and sole heir would have a difficult time nonetheless. Lionel would fight, and fight hard. So Jonathan, then. It seemed right: his honesty was above reproach, as was his commitment to the town. He was stubborn. He hated Lionel, but harbored no sentimentality towards Lex either.

And, Lex thought morosely as he signed at each spot the attorney indicated, it would give him at last that chance he'd always wanted to help provide a bright future for Clark. He set the executor's monthly stipend at a low thirty thousand dollars and hoped Jonathan would be content, or at the very least resigned, to funnel it into a college fund.

"Thank you," Lex said as he rose from the table and offered his hand. "I appreciate your help ... more than I can say."

"Mr. Luthor ... Lex." The attorney held on to his hand a moment longer than good manners normally dictate. "Is everything all right?"

They'd done much work together since Lex came to Smallville, and he was a kind, fatherly sort of man; he meant well. Lex just smiled.

"It is now. Thank you again."

It had grown dark while he was signing; the street lights had come on on Main Street, and their illumination seemed to cling to the Porsche as Lex drove away, as if in a weak attempt to hold him back. But Lex shrugged them off, along with most other thought, as he pointed the car out of town.

He parked on the shoulder just before the bridge, and covered the last hundred yards or so on foot. Then, placing his hands on the guardrail, for a while he simply stood there, letting the cold wind howling at his back fill all his senses and carry off any trace of fear.

Somewhere in the distance, lights blinked on at the river's edge. Lex peered at them a moment, then realized that they outlined trees, bushes, a home. Others followed suit until his vision was full of their technicolor glow.

He'd forgotten it was Christmas Eve. It didn't really matter; but the people of Smallville might awake tomorrow to find some comfort in the gift he would be giving them.

He thought once more of Clark, of his way of always refusing Lex's presents. Well, he'd won this time; this, there could be no returning.

He squared his shoulders, set one foot onto the guardrail. Then the other. He balanced there, his body feeling small against the wind. Then, with hardly any effort at all, he leaned.

*

There was a flash of light, and a rush even stronger than the frigid wind. Then Lex heard someone call his name, and a pair of arms were coming around him, impossible in their warmth and strength.

Lex was pulled back roughly, and he stumbled a little as his feet hit the asphalt; he had been expecting a much different sort of landing. He whirled on his rescuer with rage.

"Clark!" he shouted, pushing him away. "What are you doing?"

"You can't do it, Lex." Clark responded with unexpected calm. He leaned in to be heard over the wind and the pounding in Lex's ears. He ignored Lex's rebuff and placed his hands on his shoulders again.

The calm familiarity of the gesture brought Lex up short; Clark never touched him like this. He peered up into the boy's face, and suddenly realized this wasn't the Clark he knew. He couldn't account for it, but he was different; his voice, his manner, even his face held something older, more confident and serene than he had ever seen from Clark before. And his clothes - he was all in black, with a strange silver symbol on his chest.

"Who are you?" he asked weakly.

"I'm Clark," he answered. "Just ... not the one you're used to."

"I ..." Spots swam in Lex's vision; the adrenaline was beginning to catch up with him. His knees buckled; Clark caught him.

"Listen, Lex," he continued. "We promised we'd always be honest with each other, and I'm going to keep that promise. But it will be hard for you to understand, and I have to be careful about what I say. Do you trust me?"

Lex wondered if he was losing consciousness. "What?"

He couldn't be, though; Clark's eyes were so piercing, they rooted him in the moment and wouldn't let him go. He repeated: "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Lex whispered.

"I've come from the future," Clark said, his voice like a sigh. "I can't let you do this; it would destroy everything."

Lex stared at him for a moment, then fought his way out of his embrace a second time. "What are you ..."

"I'm telling you the truth." Clark made no attempt to hold him back, though his voice remained urgent. "You can see for yourself I'm different. The Clark you know is - how old? Sixteen?"

"You're telling me you traveled through _time_?"

"Yes."

"And just how ..."

"With this," Clark interrupted in his eagerness to prove himself. He held up his hand, casting a flash of silver in the chilly moonlight. "It's my Legion ring; I can go anywhere - or maybe any_ when_ - I need to."

"Is this what you've been hiding from me?" Lex demanded, incredulous.

"Actually, no," he answered somewhat sheepishly. "The Clark in your time can't time-jump. And I wouldn't mention it to him, either; he'd probably just freak out."

Lex just glared at him, speechless.

"I'm sorry, Lex," Clark said, his expression growing soft. "I know you want explanations, and you're probably entitled to them. But I'm already breaking the rules, coming here like this; we're not supposed to change things." He made a gesture of frustration. "I had no idea you would go and do something so melodramatic, though. I mean, really - throwing yourself off Loeb Bridge?"

"You just appeared out of thin air, claiming to be from the future, and _I'm _being melodramatic?" Lex snapped. "Besides, maybe I'm the one who's correcting history here; you should never have pulled me out of the water the first time."

"Don't say that," Clark argued, reaching for him again. "It isn't true."

"It is! You pretend to have some kind of omniscience? - then you know the mess I've gotten this town into. Well, I'm not just going to stand by and let it happen; I'm going to fix it, and I don't care if you don't like my methods." He shoved him with all his strength. "Get out of my way."

Lex stepped back towards the guardrail, but Clark's hand came against his chest so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. "You really believe that." Clark's face was unreadable. "You really think Smallville would be better off if I'd let you die."

"I do," he growled. "In fact, it might have been even better if I'd never even been born at all."

"Now you're really wrong," Clark retorted, and before Lex could make to stop him, forced the Legion ring onto his finger. "And I'm going to prove it."

*

The air all around them was full of heat and the smell of burning; it was as close to a vision of Hell as Lex had ever seen first-hand.

"What is this?" he cried, even as a huge object hurtled past and smashed into the ground, leaving a gouge several yards long before coming to smoking rest. It was only then that Lex realized they were standing in the middle of a field.

"It's the meteor shower," Clark said grimly. "The first one."

"There were others?"

"Never mind," Clark responded, grabbing his hand. "Come on."

Clark pulled him towards the road, but there was something wrong about the way they were moving; time and space seemed to slow around them. Just then, Lex caught something out of the corner of his eye; he clutched at Clark's sleeve. "Watch out!"

"Don't worry," Clark said, not unkindly, even as the meteor crashed to the ground just feet away from them. "I'll keep you safe."

Lex's vision blurred again as Clark pulled him through the high grass. Each time a meteor came close, Clark's face would shift into a grimace; but he dodged them easily, as if he knew with precision where each one would land. Lex stopped protesting and just watched him, thinking of all the times he'd seen Clark playing a pickup game of football with Pete or Jonathan. He was good, always had been; but he'd never seen Clark move like this.

As they reached the road, Lex could see that the meteor shower was almost over; smoke was rising from the impact craters, but there were few solid objects left in the sky. Clark checked his pace fractionally, but continued pulling him along. Finally Lex thought to ask, "Where are we going?"

"Our first meeting," Clark answered shortly. "But we have to hurry, or we'll miss it."

Lex wanted to ask what he was talking about, but he could tell he wouldn't get an answer; so he just followed. Clark's hand was tight and unyielding on his; Lex's legs burned from running, but Clark didn't even break a sweat.

Finally they slowed to a walk, and Clark pulled him off the road. Within just a few steps they were completely surrounded by tall cornstalks. Clark released his hand, then turned to touch him gently on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Lex answered, bewildered. "But Clark, you have to tell me what's happening."

"We're in 1989." Clark pushed at the cornstalks, making a space wide enough to peek through. "We have to be careful, we can't let anyone see us or we might change something by accident - but there's something I think you need to see."

"What?"

"There." Clark pulled him closer, and together they peered out over the road.

A truck was barreling down the deserted strip, but a voice called out from the shoulder and it began to slow. A figure stepped into the road and hailed the vehicle; it rolled to a stop just yards from where Clark and Lex were hidden.

"Please, help us!" called the figure. "My son!"

"My god," Lex murmured. "It's my father."

"Get in!" called the driver of the truck.

"And mine," Clark said.

Lex watched uncomprehending as Jonathan Kent got out of the truck. The passenger door opened and Lionel climbed inside, then reached back for Jonathan to lay an unconscious nine-year-old Lex in his arms. "Don't worry," Jonathan said kindly. "We'll get you to the hospital."

"Thank you," Lionel quavered, his voice thick with emotion. Disgust welled in Lex to hear it, and he could barely help but clap his hands over his ears. Then Jonathan was climbing back behind the wheel and the truck roared off again.

"You didn't know, did you?" Clark asked softly, letting the curtain of cornstalks close around them again. "Lionel never told you."

"No," Lex managed to reply.

"I was in that truck too, you know," Clark continued. "We got you to the medical center; your father told mine that we probably saved your life."

For a moment Lex said nothing, just struggled to comprehend what he had seen. When he found his voice again, he said, "I don't understand, Clark. Why did you bring me here?"

"That's not all," Clark answered without answering. "Lionel told my parents, anything they ever needed - if there was anything in his power to thank them, just ask it. ... And it just so happened they did need help with something."

"What was it?"

"With fabricating an adoption." Clark's eyes looked somehow shattered. "Of a boy who fell out of the sky."

Lex stared at him, the rustling of the corn around them and the distant wail of sirens making the entire scene all the more surreal. "Are you saying ..."

"I didn't want to tell you like this," Clark interrupted. "But now that we're here, I can't remember ever telling you any other way. So this must be right; and you need to know. You need to understand that because of you, I grew up safe - and normal, or as normal as someone like me could ever hope for."

Lex tried to follow Clark's words, but all he could do was finish his own sentence. "... you came with the meteors."

"Yes," Clark said seriously.

"You're ... from outer space?"

"Yes," he repeated. "But that's not the point."

Lex nearly choked. "That's not the ...! How can you ...!"

"The point is," Clark said gently, "that Lionel helped my parents ... well, tell a lie of Luthor proportions, I guess. But he never would have been indebted to them if it weren't for you." He took Lex's hands in his again, though this time it was a natural gesture, as if he were used to doing it twenty times a day. "So when you say the world would be better off if you'd never been born - that's a lie, Lex. And no one knows that better than me."

Lex could not take his eyes off Clark's fingers wrapping carefully around his own. Clark followed his gaze and quickly withdrew his hands.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "I forgot."

"Forgot ... what?"

"It's just so strange, seeing you like this," Clark answered, again without answering. "You look just like you to me, but - well, you're not my Lex." He colored. "I mean, the Lex of my time. That makes things ... really weird for me."

"Tell me about it," Lex retorted weakly.

"I'm sorry," Clark repeated. "I hope all of this isn't too much for you. But you were about to take some pretty drastic action back there, and I thought one deserved another."

"I'm fine," Lex said, though he ran a hand absently over his own body as if to make sure. "So ..."

"Lex. I'm sorry, I can't answer your questions right now. But in time ..."

"Oh, I see." Lex felt overwhelmed, confused; but mostly, angry. "I suppose if I want you to tell me anything more, I have to make another suicide attempt."

"I wish you wouldn't joke like that," Clark frowned. "I'm trying to make a serious point here."

"Are you?" Lex groused. "What with all the time travel and aliens from space and revisiting the scene of my great trauma, I guess I've missed it."

"I'm trying to show you that your presence in the world has been for the better of the people you love." Clark sounded irritated, almost impatient. "But I guess this means I have to make my point another way. Fine. Let's go."

With that he grabbed Lex's hand again; Lex felt the Legion ring grow warm against his skin.

*

They were in Metropolis now; Lex recognized the tall buildings, the air of cynicism - and the cemetery that spread before them like a sea.

In the middle of the meteor shower, they had been conspicuous; but here they blended right in, once Clark closed his long dark coat over the strange symbol on his chest. In another of those careless gestures, he reached over and smoothed Lex's jacket too where it had hitched over his shoulders. Lex look at him wonderingly and searched for the words to ask, but Clark just set his mouth in a serious line. "Come on," he said, and pulled Lex amongst the crowd of people.

A long line of cars, most of them German, was assembled at the side of the cemetery drive. They were stately in their expensive hues of black and silver. The people who milled around on the lawn were equally stately and expensive.

"Aren't you going to ask where we are?" Clark prompted.

"No," Lex answered quietly. "I know what this is."

There was no outward command or sign, but the crowd began to part; down its center, even more imposing and formal than usual, came Lionel. He was followed by a teenaged Lex, and on his arm, a tall, pale woman. Her black hat had a trim little veil which covered her eyes, but you could still tell she had been crying.

Lionel had approached the front most limousine and was standing beside its open door. "Come, Lillian," he said, his voice stern.

Young Lex paused and looked up at her with concern. "Mother?" he asked softly, as if afraid he would startle her. "Are you ready?"

"That's enough," Lionel snapped. He reached out to hand Lillian into the car, then turned back and leaned menacingly over his son. "Don't assuage your guilt by playing your mother's caretaker," he hissed, his hand rough on Lex's shoulder. "I won't have it. Now get in."

A complicated expression flitted across young Lex's face, but he let himself be pushed into the back seat without protest. Lionel got in behind him and slammed the door.

"Please," Lex said quietly to Clark as the limo slid noiselessly away, "can we go now?"

"You saved your mother's life, you know," Clark responded, once again taking Lex's hand in his.

"I don't see how you can say that. The grief only shortened her life."

"But you took the blame," Clark insisted. "You knew ... what your father would do to her if he knew the truth. You saved her from that fate; you protected her."

Lex stared at him. "Clark, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, Lex." Clark looked at him with dawning realization, and misery. "You told me you repressed it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you by bringing you here ... But you must remember; it's important that you understand."

Lex felt a strange sensation, almost like a house of cards toppling in his mind. He looked back over the crowd, which was gradually dispersing; the fewer they grew, the more clearly he could read Julian's name newly carved into the black marble obelisk. "I didn't kill him," he whispered with the air of a secret never before spoken aloud - because, well, that's what it was. "She did."

"I'm sorry," Clark repeated, and squeezed his hand tight. "I'm too upset; I'm not thinking my actions through carefully enough, and I'm going about this all wrong. I want you to feel strength and hope, not despair."

"Then you shouldn't have brought me to my brother's funeral," Lex said hollowly.

"What you did was noble," Clark insisted, "and you spared your mother much suffering."

"Not enough," Lex murmured. "Not enough."

Clark blinked hard; Lex was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "Come on," he said, motioning him into the shadow of a nearby mausoleum. "There are less painful ways I can show you what you've meant to others."

Lex eyed the ring morosely. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Not unless you want to stay here."

Grimly, Lex cast his glance around the cemetery. "I was heading here anyway."

"Lex. Don't." Clark reached for him, and again there was that flash of light as they shifted.

*

Lex's shoulder bumped against brick. "Sorry," Clark offered. "I'm not really used to passengers."

They were standing in the alley behind the Talon. "Didn't want anyone to see us arrive," he continued, taking a few steps towards the street and peering casually around the corner of the building. "We should be good now, though. Come on."

Lex followed him out to Main Street and towards the Talon's front door. Clark's manner was easy, but Lex found it hard to relax. "When is this? Is it all right for us to be seen?"

"It's fine," Clark smiled over his shoulder. "It's just a few weeks ago for you - still fall, see?" He indicated the colorful harvest display as they passed a storefront window.

"But what happens if we ... bump into ourselves?"

"Don't worry." Clark opened the door and waved him inside. "There's no chance of that; you and I are on our way to that Sharks game right now."

Lex looked at him appraisingly as he passed. "You remember that?"

"You always remember your first ..." Clark seemed to change his mind mid-sentence. "... pro football game," he finished. They were shoulder to shoulder now, strolling towards the main coffee counter.

"But how many years ago was that for you?"

"Time travel is like that," Clark replied, minding his volume carefully even though the shop was full and noisy. "You're forced to study each detail and variable. It's too easy to make a small mistake and change something; and even the smallest change can have huge impacts on the future."

"Oh," Lex responded, feeling strangely disappointed. "So that's why you remember."

"Well, no." Clark looked away, but Lex still caught the smile that flitted across his face. "We had a great time."

Lex remembered as if it were yesterday - and technically, for him, it had been - that long drive to and from Metropolis. The football had been entertaining enough, but what he'd enjoyed most was the conversation ... there had been something about that day, some sensation flowing between them that Lex could not name. But he had felt closer to Clark in those hours than he ever had before - or than he'd ever felt with anyone.

He suddenly realized that he had never come right out and told Clark how much he'd enjoyed himself that day. To hear Clark say the same thing now was ... meaningful.

"But I didn't bring you to today because of the football," Clark was saying. "I brought you because of something Lana told me about later."

Swiftly, Clark pulled out a chair at one of the front tables and gestured him into it; Lex hadn't even noticed the table was empty, but it must have just been another example of Clark's study of all the details. Clark settled opposite him, then leaned across the table conspiratorially. "The mayor is about to order a coffee," he said. "Listen."

The familiar surroundings took the surreal edge off; Lex found himself feeling more at ease, more like the way he usually felt when it was just the two of them. He feigned scandal. "Clark, are you actually encouraging me to eavesdrop?"

"What?" He grinned. "There's something I think you should hear."

"I'm actually starting to believe you now," Lex said. "You _are_ different from the Clark I know."

"Yeah," Clark answered, though Lex wondered why his tone had gone so sober. "I've learned a lot since your time."

"What ..."

"Shh," he interrupted. "You're missing it."

"... what the Talon has done for downtown commerce," the mayor was saying. "Really, Miss Lang, I'm tempted to give you the Citizen Of The Year award."

"That's very generous," Lana demurred, "but I don't deserve any of the credit; you should really give it to Lex Luthor."

"I know Mr. Luthor is the financial power behind the Talon, but ..."

"Oh, no - he's much more than that," Lana insisted. "Lex has had a hand in everything about this place; in fact, he just helped me with the application for the State Registry of Historic Buildings. He really cares about the Talon - and Smallville."

"The name Luthor doesn't usually call that sort of sentiment to mind."

"He's nothing like his father."

"He must not be, to have your good opinion. Thank you, Miss Lang."

"Have a wonderful day, Mr. Mayor."

Lex had to fight the impulse to turn and watch him go. Instead he stared at Clark, disbelieving. "Do I actually get the award?"

"Sorry," Clark smiled. "But it's true, about the Talon being good for the town. And it's good for Lana, too. She ..."

"What?"

"Oh." Clark looked flustered. "I can't, I shouldn't tell you things about the future."

Lex folded his arms. "This entire thing is completely unfair to me, you know."

"I know," Clark sighed. "I'm sorry. Here, let's just say ... Lana always wanted more than Smallville could offer, but she needed opportunities to pursue to make sure it happened for her. The Talon is one of them - and you gave it to her."

"And what about you?"

"Me? Lex, I told you I can't ..."

"I mean, what opportunities did you give her?" For some reason Lex felt cross; he'd always encouraged Clark's pursuit of Lana, but he suddenly found the subject of her ... unpleasant.

But Clark just laughed. "Oh, I get it. I don't suppose it would hurt to tell you - Lana and I aren't together in the future."

"No?"

"No."

"What happened?"

He was smiling too much for someone talking about heartbreak. "Things just ... didn't work out."

"But ..."

"I understand why you're confused. The Clark you know never shuts up about Lana." Clark rose from his chair and leaned close to whisper almost wickedly, "I promise that won't be the case forever, though."

Lex got to his feet too. "Are we done here?"

"Yes." They attracted no undue attention as they slipped out of the Talon and back onto the street. "But you don't seem too impressed."

"Come on, Clark. It was nice of Lana to pay me a compliment, but it's hardly a life-altering experience."

"Okay," he acknowledged. "I suppose you lack the hindsight yet to understand. But the Talon is just the beginning, just the first of the great things you're going to do for Smallville."

"Right." Lex shoved his hands into his pockets. Without the comforting surroundings of the coffeehouse, where he and Clark had spent so many careless, friendly hours, he was feeling edgy and pessimistic again. "Culminating in my saving of the plant. Which you so nicely interrupted."

Clark made a sound of frustration and pulled him back down the alley and out of sight of the road. "Are you serious? You don't still think that killing yourself is going to save the plant?"

"You tell me what other option I have," Lex snapped, pulling away. "Oh, but that's right, you can drag me around through time but you can't give me any actual answers."

Clark's face seemed to turn to stone. "Nothing I've shown you means anything to you. Nothing I've _told_ you."

"Clark." Lex was almost abashed. "I'm beyond moved by your trust. And I don't want to leave you ... or the you I know. But _he _hasn't trusted me - and it doesn't change the mess that awaits me back in my own time."

"He will," Clark promised. "We're the same person, remember. You just have to ... be patient."

"I don't have the luxury of patience now. This battle with my father is destroying people's lives. I have to make it right."

Clark seemed almost enraged now. "Sacrificing yourself _does not _make it _right_!"

"You think it's some kind of idiotic lark? I have a plan!"

"You only think that," Clark protested. "If you'd just look at what I've shown you -"

"I _am _looking!" Lex threw up his hands. "You think you're changing my mind though? I was wrong - you aren't that different from the Clark I know. You're only doing things by half-measures; you still won't commit to real action."

"I told you - I can't tell you too much, I have to be careful -"

"But you're already changing things! Your coming back to stop me changes things, doesn't it?"

"That's because I've seen the future without you in it," Clark said with maddening certainty. "And it sure doesn't turn out all right."

"It can't be so terrible," Lex snapped, "or you wouldn't care so much for your petty rules."

"Is that what you think?" His eyes flashed with burning anger. "You really need to see for yourself? Then look!"

Clark seized the hand on which Lex still wore the ring, and the world flickered once again.

*

They didn't seem to have moved.

"Well," Lex drawled, "it appears the town is still standing."

"You think so?" Clark snapped back. "Look closer."

He grabbed Lex's wrist and pulled him back out onto Main Street. Lex looked around and did begin to notice differences; the street was less trafficked, the storefronts shabbier. A number of them were actually vacant.

"All right," Lex conceded vaguely. "Tell me what I'm seeing."

"You're seeing Smallville," Clark answered with a gesture, "without the LuthorCorp plant."

"Without the plant?" Lex was confused. "But ..."

"That plan of yours?" Clark was walking rapidly, pulling him towards the far end of town. They passed the Talon again, but in this Smallville it was boarded up, a sign reading DANGER: CONDEMNED hung with incongruous carelessness on the front door. "It mustn't be as well-thought-out as you think. Because this is the past I woke up to this morning. The plant is definitely closed. And two-thirds of the town left with it; no jobs, no money to pay the mortgage, no use in staying."

"And you're sure ..."

"I traced everything back as best I could." Clark's syllables were clipped; he was still angry. "I didn't have a lot of time, you understand; but your suicide seemed to be the point where history diverged. There was ... as much careful consideration as there was time for. But in the end, coming back to stop you seemed worth the risk."

They were nearing the edge of downtown now; but suddenly, something caught Clark's attention and he pulled them out of sight between two buildings.

"What is it?" Lex hissed.

Clark didn't say anything, just pointed across the street. Lex looked. "It's Fordman's. So?"

"No," Clark answered. "Look again."

Lex did. He squinted against the morning glare; it must have been about nine in the morning, because a Fordman's employee was coming around to open the store's front door. It was a woman of indeterminate age; she moved slowly, dispiritedly, her long hair and her ill-fitting Fordman's smock both hanging lankly around her.

She unlocked the door, then paused for a moment to glance up and down the empty street. She appeared to sigh. Then she disappeared back into the building's dim interior.

Lex stared after her, his eyes wide with distaste. "Was that ...?"

"Lana," Clark acknowledged grimly.

"When is this?"

"About three years in the future for you."

"She looks ... terrible," Lex said, the words and their honesty tasting unpleasant in his mouth. "What happened?"

"The only thing that could have happened to her in Smallville," Clark said dispassionately. "She married Whitney. He was going to join the Marines when he graduated, but she agreed to marry him so he would stay. She would have finished school, but then Mr. Fordman died and Whitney took over the store, so she dropped out to help him." He made a vague gesture of frustration. "I'm sure you can guess how the business is doing these days."

"It's such ... a waste," Lex murmured.

"Yes," Clark agreed. "She would have loved to leave this town, see the world, really experience a life of her own choosing. But without the Talon, she never had the money or the opportunity to do any of that." His voice was cold and flat. "Or, frankly, the confidence to try. And it's a real shame, because we could have used her help today."

The last part of Clark's remark didn't make sense to Lex; he focused on the part that did. "What do you mean, without the Talon?"

"LuthorCorp closed it too," Clark answered. "Your plan mustn't have included it."

Lex gazed back towards Fordman's in horror. "No," he murmured, "not specifically. But I thought ..."

"What?"

"I thought I left everything in good hands."

"You tried to," Clark said. "But it didn't succeed for long."

Lex glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Clark returned his look sadly. "Come on, I'll show you."

He took hold of Lex and there was a rush of wind; suddenly, they were standing on the road that ran past Kent Farm. Even from this distance, the buildings were in apparent disrepair; a chain was slung across the gate, and hung with a sign that read FOR SALE: FORECLOSURE.

Lex was nothing short of appalled. He took a few steps towards the rail fence that Jonathan had built with his own hands, but found he couldn't get too close; it caused him near-physical pain. "How could this be?"

"Lionel." Clark spat the word out like poison; he too was visibly upset by the scene before them.

"But ..."

"He fought the changes to your will," Clark explained tersely. "He got your attorney to admit that you showed signs of emotional distress when you came to his office."

"... He cared about me," Lex murmured, shaking his head. "He used that against him."

"Yes. And to make matters worse, in the uproar following your suicide, your attorney delayed filing your updated will. When he arrived at court, Lionel had already had submitted your old one to probate."

Lex became instantly furious. "How could he have succeeded? It was all perfectly valid, what judge in his right mind ..."

"Your father has enough money to buy anything," Clark replied. "Even a judge. My father tried to fight, but without access to your estate he couldn't afford it. In the end, Lionel got everything."

"And the plant closed anyway," Lex observed unhappily.

"Yes. And then there was the chemical spill."

"What chemical spill?"

"The one that destroyed half my father's acreage," Clark snapped. He folded his arms and turned away to look across the remains of Kent Farm. "The details were never clear; Lionel did a great job covering it all up. But it had to be some kind of accident at the abandoned plant. All the lands surrounding it were contaminated. The owners - including my parents - tried suing LuthorCorp, to force them to pay for the damages; but your father refused to ever admit responsibility. Of course it had nothing to do with the fight over your will and the grudge Lionel held against my father." Clark gestured hopelessly towards the chained-up gate. "He tied it up in litigation for over two years. The cost of it bankrupted my family."

"Clark." Lex wanted to return to his side, to reach out towards him - but he felt rooted in place in the dust of the shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I never thought ..."

"You thought it was just your life you were destroying?" Clark turned on him, furious. "You think you're so calculating; but you value yourself too little to see how important you are. To LuthorCorp's future, to Smallville's ..." He trailed off with another frustrated gesture. "To mine."

"I thought making your father my heir would secure your future," Lex offered lamely.

"Well, it didn't," Clark answered roughly. "All it did was put my family in Lionel's crosshairs."

"Clark ..."

"And it's not just my family that was destroyed, either," Clark interrupted. "You wanted to see! Well, I'm going to show you everything. Let's go."

He took Lex in his arms again, and once more the world became a blur around them. Lex had a horrible headache and a nauseating case of vertigo when Clark released him.

They were back in the cemetery in Metropolis.

"Please," Lex almost begged, clutching at Clark's sleeve. "I don't want to see my own grave; it's too morbid."

"I didn't bring you here for that," Clark replied coldly, pointing to the nearest headstone. "There's someone else's grave I thought you should visit."

Lex looked, and recoiled in horror.

_Chloe Sullivan_

_1986-2002_

_"If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it"_

Lex fell to his knees on the damp ground. "What happened?"

Clark spoke stonily. "When the plant closed, Gabe Sullivan lost his job; he had no choice but to move them back here to Metropolis." He paused to draw the back of his hand across his eyes. "And you know Chloe and her reporter's drive; she was never shy about asking tough questions. She planned to get what dirt she could on your father, to try to make him pay for what he'd done."

Lex thought he might actually be sick. "Don't tell me he ..."

"No," Clark said. "This was one murder of which Lionel's hands were actually clean. But her investigation led her to Suicide Slums. She got mugged."

"My fault," Lex whispered, crumpling forward. The dewy grass stung like icy fingers against his clammy skin; the smell of earth and death filled his senses. "All my fault."

"You're right," Clark remarked cruelly. "It is. And there's so much more to Chloe's loss that you don't even understand yet; without her in Watchtower, the League and the Legion are flying blind. It's a miracle they were able to rescue me at all."

Lex stared at him, uncomprehending. "What do you mean, rescue you?"

Clark looked down at him appraisingly. "It's several more years into the future; do you think you can handle another jump? Or do you want to throw up first?"

Lex wasn't expecting sympathy, but Clark's hard tone jolted him back to self-possession. "I'm fine," he said, rising and swiping at the dampness on his clothes with as much dignity as he could muster. "Let's go."

Clark held out his hand without a word; just as silently, Lex reached out and took it.

*

It was night, but Lex recognized the seedy atmosphere of Metropolis's warehouse district. The shadows fell heavily between the closely-packed buildings and gave the place a menacing air.

"We have to be careful," Clark warned.

"It's pitch black," Lex remarked. "I'm sure there's no chance of anyone seeing us."

"I mean we have to be careful to stay out of the way," Clark replied grimly. "There's enough Kryptonite in that warehouse to kill me; and the guards won't hesitate to shoot you first and ask questions later."

"What guards?"

"Those ones," he said, and yanked Lex behind a stack of pallets.

Just then the door to a nearby building burst open; there was a hail of gunfire and a confusion of raised voices. A moment later several figures emerged into the narrow yard; one staggered, seeming barely conscious, one arm over the shoulders of another. Three others flanked them, and shouted to one another as they held their pursuers at bay.

Lex struggled in the dimness to make out any details. They carried no weapons as far as he could see; their clothes were all similar, though, in their strange form-fit and bizarre colors. Armed guards gave them chase, but their guns seemed useless, and they never got close enough to engage them hand-to-hand; flashes of what almost looked like lightning felled each one before they got more than a few steps into the yard.

The one who supported his injured comrade fell back as far from the building as he could, keeping his body at all times between his burden and the open door. "Can you hold them, Rokk?" he yelled.

"I can," answered the stately figure whose black garb made him nearly invisible in the darkness. He was positioned nearest the building, his empty arms extended and a perceptible tension in his stance, as if he were exerting some kind of invisible force.

"Imra, Garth!" the first one - apparently their leader - called out, and the remaining two ran to him. He shifted their slumping ally onto their slimmer forms. "Go, go now!"

They hesitated for a fraction of a second; but then, incredibly, they took flight before Lex's eyes, bearing their injured friend between them.

Freed from his burden, their leader sprang to the aid of the one he'd called Rokk; he removed some sort of weapon from a holster at his thigh and began firing glowing green projectiles back into the building. An alarm was sounding inside now, and more shouts from unseen sources indicated that some of his shots had found their mark.

Suddenly another figure appeared in the yard; his posture was casual, almost bored as he tapped at the leader's shoulder. "Watch where you're slinging those things, son," he quipped. "I almost had to hustle to stay out of your way."

"Shut up, Bart," their leader snarled. "Imra and Garth took Clark to HQ - they could probably use your help."

"Be there in a flash," Bart grinned, and was gone as suddenly as he'd appeared.

"Where are the others?" the leader asked Rokk.

"The cyborg is coming," he replied in that strange, morose voice of his. "I feel him struggling against my field."

"Can you let him through while keeping the guards back?"

Rokk nodded tersely, and a moment later another figure joined them. "Oliver!" he shouted. "There are more guards coming from the other sectors; we don't have much time!"

"What did you find?" the leader - Oliver - demanded.

"This isn't the only facility of its kind," he answered, "but I have the locations of the others."

"And the plans?"

He tapped a finger to his temple. "Nuked," he said, sounding almost pleased.

Oliver jerked his head in response. "Did you plant the charges?"

"It's all in place, ready when you are."

"And AC?"

"Slipped down a drain someplace. I'm sure he's halfway to HQ by now."

"That's it then," Oliver said, holstering his weapon. "Let's do it."

"See you there," replied the one they'd called Cyborg, and took off at blinding speed between the buildings.

Rokk dropped his arms and moved swiftly to Oliver's side. They seemed to embrace, and then just like the first pair, they were airborne.

"Come on," came Clark's voice close to Lex's ear. "We have to get out of here right now."

"But it's over," Lex protested, turning to him with a hundred questions in his face.

"No it's not," Clark said, taking hold of him in preparation to run. "Oliver has the detonator in his hand; this whole area will be a smoking crater in about ten seconds."

"But ..."

"No time," Clark interrupted. "Let's go."

The world slowed to a crawl as Clark reached speed; Lex looked over his shoulder and watched the explosion bloom like a flower, its petals of flame edged with a poisonous green glow.

*

They were standing on Loeb Bridge again. Clark must have time-jumped while running; Lex pondered the physics of this as he threw up over the guardrail.

"Sorry," Clark said from behind him, his tone completely unapologetic. "I was afraid that might be too much for your senses."

"I'm fine," Lex lied, and heaved again. He forced himself to stand up straight, but he was still gasping for breath. "What was that that we just saw?"

"My friends rescuing me," Clark answered, sounding almost tired, "from one of your father's Level Three facilities. He was holding me in a Kryptonite cage."

"He knows ... what you are?"

"He does." Clark folded his arms across his chest. "He was part of a secret society that knew about my arrival on Earth; he's been searching for me for years. By your time, he already suspects what I am. It only takes him a few more years to confirm it." He paused, then added, "Your evidence helps a great deal."

"My ..."

"From your investigation," Clark replied dispassionately, "of me and my family. You keep it in a locked room on the third floor of the mansion's east wing."

Lex realized his jaw was hanging open. It took conscious effort to close it.

"I know everything," Clark commented. "We have no secrets, you and I, where I come from."

"And ..." Lex struggled to conceive of what he was about to ask. " ... we're still friends?"

The hardness in Clark's manner, and his anger, was suddenly gone. The next thing Lex knew, Clark's arms were around him, shielding him from the wind - and somehow, from the pain that welled in his chest. Clark bent his head to rest his jaw against Lex's temple; there was unmistakable tenderness in the way he answered. "The best," he said. "Never doubt it."

Lex felt Clark's breath brush against his ear and closed his eyes. He could not make sense of his swirling emotions; his path, which he'd embarked upon with such purpose just minutes ago in his own time, was no longer clear.

"I want that future," he whispered.

"You can have it," Clark said fiercely, pulling back just far enough to look into Lex's face. "What I just showed you can all be prevented. It was only this morning to me that I woke up in your father's prison. I had no idea what had changed until we got back to headquarters and I asked for you - and they told me you were dead, had died years ago. We researched it as best we could without Chloe, and it all seemed to come back to tonight. So I told them I was coming back for you."

Lex nodded, though he barely understood. "What did they say?"

"They tried to stop me," he admitted. "They knew something was wrong in the past too, but they couldn't remember it the way I could. They told me I wasn't thinking clearly, that the prolonged exposure to Kryptonite was making me irrational. But I had to come. It was wrong enough to be without Lana, without Chloe." Clark's eyes glittered; he was near tears again. "I couldn't be without you too."

Then, inexplicably, his fingers found Lex's cheek, and he leaned in and kissed him.

At first Lex couldn't breathe; the shock, he reasoned, though that emotion quickly gave way to wonder. He couldn't lie to himself: he knew how much he wanted this, how much he always had. But it had never occurred to him that it could actually happen.

It must be Christmas after all.

He pulled away despite the protests of all his senses. "You don't want to do that," he murmured. "I've been throwing up, remember?"

Clark chuckled and pressed their foreheads together. "You think I care about that?" His embrace tightened; Lex still wore no coat, so Clark unbuttoned his and pulled Lex inside. "I've been wanting to do that since the first moment I saw you standing here; I spent all day thinking I would never get to kiss you ever again."

"Maybe you just should have." Lex found himself smiling. "It might have been less trouble than the other way you chose to change my mind."

"Lex," Clark sighed, running his fingers over his scalp. Lex shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. "I really shouldn't be doing this; I've definitely told you too much now. But just tell me you _have_ changed your mind, and I won't care."

"I have," he promised. "But ..."

Clark hugged him tighter. "What?"

"I don't know what to do instead," Lex choked into Clark's chest. His eyes were burning; tears? Considering everything that had happened tonight, nothing would surprise him anymore. "I want so badly to be worthy of this future you tell me we have. But it terrifies me, not knowing the way to get there. The thought of making a mistake now, of jeopardizing it ..." He shook his head futilely. "Just tell me what to do."

"I can't," Clark answered sadly. "I wish I could, Lex. But I can't take away your freedom to choose for yourself. Even if I did it out of a desire to help you, I'd be hurting you in the end. You have to make your own choices; there's no other way." He ran his fingers lovingly over every inch of Lex's face. "And I'll be honest: some of the choices you're going to make ... they're going to be wrong. But there's a way back together for you and me, I promise you. Just love me - and never stop looking for it."

Lex felt the goodbye coming and clutched at Clark's shirt. He knew he couldn't keep him, but oh, how he wanted to. "And you?"

"I'll do the same." He kissed him one more time. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Lex breathed, remembering how this had all begun. It seemed the right question and answer to bookend all he had experienced tonight.

"I love you," Clark said, the simplicity and weight of the words having value beyond measure.

And then he was gone.

Without Clark's body to shield him, Lex immediately felt the cold again. It was disconcerting, to go so suddenly from feeling safe and loved to standing alone in the wailing darkness. But Lex squared his shoulders and looked up towards the vast night sky, hoping that somewhere in time, Clark was returning to his arms.

That thought was enough to make him keep his promise.

He lowered his gaze and swept it out over Smallville; he needed a new plan, it seemed, but he had no idea where to begin. He might try getting out of the cold, though. What had he been thinking, going out without a coat?

Then he turned from the guardrail, only to realize that someone was calling his name.

Clark was running towards him - _his_ Clark, in sixteen's red flannel and headlong rush. Lex watched him come like a battering ram through the darkness and howling wind. He was so beautiful; it made Lex's heart ache. How could he have thought of leaving him, how?

Then suddenly Clark's arms clamped around Lex and dragged him away from the edge. Lex couldn't help comparing this embrace with the one he'd just had; he decided it was impossible to choose which he'd rather keep. They were, after all, the same.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Clark was ranting, "and when you weren't picking up your cell phone I was afraid you'd come here. Don't be an idiot, Lex! You can't ..."

"I turned it off," Lex interrupted mildly.

"You ... what?" Clark released him as precipitously as he'd pulled him into his arms.

"I turned my cell phone off. I tried all afternoon to find someone, anyone to help me find a way around my father's purchase of the Savings & Loan, but there was no one; I got frustrated, so I turned the phone off." He looked into Clark's bewildered face and felt such intense affection for him. "You can't have thought I was ignoring you on purpose, Clark. If I'd known you were trying to reach me ... I could never refuse you."

"So what are you doing here on this bridge," Clark demanded, "if you're _not_ trying to kill yourself?"

"This spot has meaning to me; I came here to think." Lex couldn't help a smirk. "I won't deny that that thought crossed my mind. But there's got to be a way out of this mess, and I won't find it at the bottom of the river. Maybe we can invalidate the acquisition ... I'll need an outside corporate counsel, though, someone who has no tie to my father ..."

He'd taken a few paces away, towards that spot in the distance where the Porsche was ditched, but Clark hadn't moved. "Come on, Clark," Lex said in tone that was strangely conversational for the setting. "You don't mind kicking this around with me, do you? Let's just do it someplace warm. My office or the loft, you choose."

Clark seemed to come to life again, and sprinting to his side, hustled Lex back to the car. "How about the Talon instead?"

"The Talon?" Lex's brow creased. "All right, I guess I could use a coffee."

"Lex," Clark prompted as they slid into the Porsche and cranked on the heat, "you don't have to do anything. It's all fine."

Lex turned to him, quizzical. "What do you mean, it's all fine?"

"I've been trying to tell you - if you'd left your stupid phone turned on, honestly, who turns off their phone? That's the _point_ of it, to be always reachable!"

"Clark!" Lex barked impatiently. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Smallville doesn't have the only Savings & Loan on earth, Lex," Clark said, raising his eyebrows. "A few plant employees live in Granville and went to the credit union there; they got their mortgages. So when the news spread about Smallville, Granville offered to make all the loans. The buyout is safe. And everyone is at the Talon right now, celebrating."

Lex just stared at him.

"What?" Clark grinned. "What are you waiting for? Let's go join them!"

"So all I had to do," Lex murmured to no one in particular, "was just be patient."

"Patience is a virtue," Clark remarked, "but I don't think it's one of your strong suits."

"No," Lex replied. "It definitely isn't."

He reached decisively into the passenger seat, slipped his hand behind Clark's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Lex had thought it would be difficult to separate the two Clarks in his mind - but it wasn't. The future Clark had kissed him with confidence born of long habit; but this Clark was still young. It would take some time for him to reach that level of casual comfort ... but until then, Lex would make sure to enjoy his surprised enthusiasm.

"Okay," Clark managed at last, sounding a little short of breath. "So I haven't been imagining it?"

"Oh no," Lex replied, finally giving in to the urge he'd suppressed so long and running his fingers through Clark's hair. "I just hope it's not ... too soon."

"Too soon?" he echoed, and pulled Lex's mouth back to his. "I wish you'd done this months ago."

For a while they couldn't talk any more; their mouths were occupied. Then Clark chuckled under his breath. "We're steaming up the windows."

Lex laughed too. "I don't mind. This car is too dignified."

"So are you," Clark said, tweaking Lex's collar. "Usually, anyway. But there's something different about you all of a sudden."

"Is there?"

"Yes. But I don't mind either."

"Good." Lex kissed him once more, then pulled back and shifted the car into gear. "Because I think I'm going to be different from now on; today has been ... enlightening."

Clark looked skeptical as the car hurtled back towards downtown and the Talon. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me something?"

"Don't worry," Lex grinned. "I've just had an epiphany, is all."

"Okay," Clark said again, though he still sounded unsure.

"I'll tell you all about it, if you want," Lex offered.

"No, it's all right." Clark moved a little clumsily, but he slipped his hand over Lex's on the gear shift. "Tell me when you want to."

"So you trust me?"

The air hung expectantly around that question. But Clark just smiled at him, pressed his hand, and said, "Yes."

Lex punched the accelerator with joy, and they roared down Main Street. People were streaming in and out of the Talon; many turned, recognizing the sound of Lex's engine, and raised their hands with cheers of welcome.

As they got out of the car, Lex seized Clark's hand impetuously. "This is too wonderful to be real ... it makes me want to do something crazy. Tell me what you want, Clark." The street was cheerful, glowing; Lex glanced over the dazzling Christmas lights and then beyond, to the vastness of the night sky. "How about the moon? Just say the word and I'll pull it down, just for you."

Clark listened to him with a beautiful, rapt expression on his face. "I'll take it. But what then?"

"I'm not sure," Lex answered seriously. "But you deserve the moon. Or the sun. Or ..."

"How about," Clark interrupted, squeezing his hand, "we just go inside and party?"

"That'll do," Lex agreed. "For tonight at least. But think about the moon anyway; I still need a Christmas present for you."

"No you don't." They had crossed the street; Clark reached out to open the door for him. Lex realized he'd always done this; it made him smile. "You've saved Smallville, Lex; that's more than enough of a present for everyone here."

The Talon was alive with celebratory atmosphere; the Christmas decorations added to the sense of general joy, but what touched Lex most was the way the crowd stilled as he entered and started to applaud. Someone shouted, "We're all as rich as Lex now!" and the room erupted with laughter.

It seemed like everyone in town was there. Chloe and her father tugged on Lex's heartstrings in particular, as Gabe shook his hand and then pressed a kiss to his daughter's glowing cheek. Martha waved to Lex from a booth beside the tree; Jonathan actually smiled at him, and lifted his glass of root beer in salute. Lana moved among the crowd, offering Christmas cookies and mugs of hot cocoa and joking that Lex had the tab.

It took a long time for Lex to reach the seat of honor someone had vacated for him near the counter; everyone wanted to thump him on the back and wish him a Merry Christmas. When he finally reached the front of the room, he knew they expected him to climb up on that chair and make another rousing speech; he faltered, the lump in his throat making him feel tongue-tied. But Clark was still at his side, squeezing his hand and gazing at him blissfully, his eyes bright with new love.

"Tell me again," he whispered.

"You saved the town," Clark rumbled in his ear.

Lex turned back to him. "Today Smallville, tomorrow the world."

"If anyone could do it, it's you."

"No," Lex insisted, even as he stepped onto the chair. "You'll do it. But I'll help."


End file.
